Harry Potter and The Son Of Voldemort
by falconwingdiving
Summary: In war there is never just black and white. Sometimes the good guys will do evil things and those supposed to be bad guys are just good guys with bad heritage.


**Authors Note: Yes another story but I'm sure it looks familiar. There's not much to say. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: Nope don't own a thing**

**Warnings: Will involve male slash.**

**Summary: Not everything is always black and white. Sometimes the good guys are bad and sometimes those supposed to be the bad guys are just good guys in the wrong place.**

**Harry Potter and The Son Of Voldemort.**

**Chapter 1: The Block Removed  
**

"Please say you are joking." Everyone was up on their feet. The aging leader sat at the head of the table, her hands up in a defensive position. She understood the anger, the fear and the disbelief that the soldiers, for they were no longer students, felt in front of her. If the last headmaster had told her the same news she would have been as angry, as scared as they were. When she had first found out the truth, she had prayed to Merlin that it was not true. It must have been a joke but it wasn't. Sadly it wasn't.

"I cannot. It is the truth." More shouting, more crying from the children. The old woman longed to just bury her head in her hands but her old teacher, her old boss had taught her that even if you didn't want to face the truth you had to. She really hated it when he was right.

A large bang sounded through the room. It was the sound of a hand slapping down on the large oak table. She was sure that the owner of the hand would be feeling some pain but then looking at the owner of said hand she knew that he would not be feeling the pain at the moment. They had taken away that emotion many years ago.

"Shut up," his voice was low, green eyes staring at each and every member that stood. Slowly they sat down, their heads bowing in shame as they felt the embarrassment of acting like children. It was not long ago that he would have been one of those standing and shouting from the top of his lungs. How times had changed.

"Harry aren't you shocked about this?" A young woman leaned forward, her eyes bright with intelligent but her face haggard due to seeing too many things she never wanted to see.

"Of course I'm shocked about this Hermione but there is no point in ranting and raving now is there? I've done my fair share of it in the past and the one thing I learned is that there is always two sides to every story and until one has heard everything then there is no point in screaming," he was perfectly calm, sitting down, his back straight and eyes staring straight at the woman sitting at the head of the table.

"Thank you Harry. As I was saying it has come to our attention that Voldemort has a son. He has not always looked like the monster that he is now. Before you were born and before the incident he was quite a regal looking man. That was how he got so many followers. He also had many consorts, as was befitting a man of his standing," here Minerva McGonagall, the leader of the Order of the Phoenix paused. She despised the man. How he felt that he could use women any which way he wanted. Taking a deep breath she continued.

"He had his favourites like everyone and that poor young thing got pregnant. There was great rejoice in the dark side when the boy was born. Voldemort stayed away from her until she gave birth hoping that it was a boy but not unwilling to kill her and the baby if it was a girl. For a few months, Voldemort heralded the boy as his dark heir until that fateful night. When he disappeared the mother took the baby and ran to the muggle world. Sadly she was found and killed. The baby disappeared," here was where the story of the past ended.

"He didn't though did he? If he had you wouldn't be telling us this," a red haired man asked calmly. When he was younger he had often been loud and overly emotional now it was hard to get anything but a small smile from him. All of her favourite students were now nothing like they had been and it saddened her.

"She left him at orphanage. There he grew up like any normal muggle. He's never used magic, not even by accident."

"That's not possible Headmistress. Even if they grow up to be muggles, or even muggleborns show signs of magic when they are young," a slight smile came over McGonagall's as she heard the old address. They never called her leader even if they were no longer her students.

"You are of course exactly right Hermione but that fact of the matter is that the mother placed a block on the babies magic. She didn't want Voldemort finding him. She knew that he was not truly gone and as such she wanted to protect her son from magic."

"So if it worked why would we be talking about it now?" Harry Potter had always been smart even though he used to hide it.

"She underestimated both magical needs of a wizard and of course the power that the boy received from his father. We cannot forget that Voldemort was at his full strength back then. He would have gotten quite a large lump of power and for her to block it; there would be ways for it to find it's own way out. For twenty-three years it has remained dormant but lately there has been spikes in the magic level in a small town in northern England. The block is at breaking point and Voldemort knows about it. He wants his son back," here she stopped, her elbows placed on the hard battered oak table, her chin resting on steeped fingertips. She did not need to say anything else.

"I understand," Harry really was a clever boy. The war had only encouraged that. He was a soldier now, he had killed, been injured and seen friend's become enemies. She hated what the war was doing to the students, to those she still considered children but she knew as did Dumbledore before her that war did not wait for children to grow up but instead forced them to.

"Harry he is not to be killed. He must be brought to us. If we get him on our side then Voldemort will want to bargain with us." Harry nodded sharply, his eyes narrowed as his fingers itched towards his wand. The boy had certainly grown into a man.

Turning from the meeting room, knowing what he was being told to do, he left. Hermione and Ron followed him and he allowed a small smile to appear on his face. Those two always had his back. Reaching a smaller room that looked like a mixture between a library and boys bedroom, they shut the door behind him. In that instant they changed from soldiers to just a group of friends. Ron, the red haired strategist fell into a chair with a tired yawn, his legs hanging over the arm of the chair. Hermione, the smartest had re-opened a book that was dog-eared. She did love to read that girl. Harry stretched, reaching up as he closed his eyes cracking his head side to side.

"So mate what do you think the spawn of evil is like then?" Ron asked leaning his head even further back, his legs swinging upwards. Here they were just friends.

"I don't care. Though he's probably some evil brat. Been in prison or something," Harry responded as he fell into the chair the other side of the room. He had most definitely grown from when he had been school. His body had to begun to look awkward when he was younger, gangly and not at all pleasing to look at. Now though his body was toned, maybe it was from the constant running and fighting that he had to do. Being classed as a rebel, as an outcast would do that to a person. His messy black hair whilst still messy was in some form of a style, though that was what he liked to say. The truth of the matter was that whilst he had been a teenager, Harry hadn't once cared about his appearance, now he was quite vain. He was on wanted posters quite a lot and he knew just how many girls he could get. They always did seem to like bad boys after all. Ron was the same and Hermione, she would never admit it but she too was like them.

"You should never judge someone because of who their parent is," Hermione said automatically from behind her book. Ron and Harry rolled their eyes stifling their grins as they did so. It was like being back at school.

"The block has broken!" Nymphadora Tonks ran into the room, clearly out of breath but excited. They looked up before grabbing their cloaks and swinging it over their shoulders.

"Quick we have to get to the meeting room." That was all she said before turning and running back the way she came. Harry looked at his friends, grabbed his wand and then ran the same direction.

"Go quick. You need to get to him before Voldemort finds him. The death eaters will most probably get there the same time as you. Do not kill. You need for the man to come with us," McGonagall was severe and strict and with a solemn nod, they all started apparate. McGonagall watched them go, wishing them luck and with a firm nod in Harry's direction the room was empty.

* * *

"Thanks for today Lewis. So I'll see you Saturday then?" Locking the back door of the shop, the brunette woman smiled softly as she turned looking at the young boy fiddling with his bag.

"Sure thing. I need the money after all," he smiled slightly, showing that he was joking. Though without it being said he knew that both of them knew it was the truth. He really did need the money, he was just lucky that the boss was friendly and the work was enjoyable.

"Lewis, are you sure you don't need a lift? I am going that way after all." He could see the other girl, younger then him by a year shudder at the thought of going down his home street. Waving it off as if it was nothing, he threw his bag over his shoulder and started to turn.

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine and I wouldn't want to be responsible if your car got damaged or something. I'll see you Saturday Mary at ten. Do you want me to open up or will you be here?"

"I'll be here so it doesn't matter. Thanks for asking though. I'll see you Saturday," she got in her car, the younger following. Lewis could tell that she was relieved that they would not be driving down his street and he couldn't really blame them. His street was rough, one of the bad parts in town but the rent was cheap and there weren't any other cheap places now.

Walking around from the back of the shop, waving as the car passed him, he crossed the road holding his hands up in apology as a car pressed its horn. They had been speeding though so it wasn't truly his fault. The tide was in and he stood there for a moment, the sea breeze ruffling his hair, the kids, the teenagers, and the gangs playing on the beach and throwing each other in the sea. It had taken him forever to be able to move by the sea but he had done it. It didn't mean that he could afford a nice place to live though. The two towns were connected and often considered as one town. They were like two different worlds though, and he lived in one of the worst parts of town. A rough estate that was known for the kids running riots, gangs, murders and even prostitution. No normal person liked to go down that area. It was so bad the bus routes had been moved as well.

Placing slender hands into the pockets of ragged but clean jeans, he lowered his head slightly as he walked towards the bus stop. Although the bus didn't stop near his house or the estate it was not close enough for him to walk it, even if he had been feeling well. Stopping along the war he rubbed at the bridge of his nose before reaching heavenwards to stretch and crack his stiff body. His head was still aching, his body felt heavy and awkward and the world was spinning yet again. Having taken quite a lot of paracetamol at work, he was sure that if he took any more that he would overdose. He could have called in sick, his boss would have understood and as she often said he was allowed one sick day in the two years he had worked for her. His pride wouldn't allow him to though. It was only the flu most probably, and after all he had suffered from worse.

When he was a child he had lived in an orphanage, something he never admitted to and didn't like anybody asking questions about. The questions were always the same, where are your parents? Did they die? Do you remember them? He hated the questions. Why people thought that they had a right to know his personal business was beyond him. That was neither here nor there though. Living in the orphanage had taught him the tricks to survive. The biggest boy would always be in charge so sometimes you had to ally yourself with them until there came such a time to defeat him and take the top spot. You didn't only have to worry about the other kids you had to worry about the adults supposedly looking after you. They were worst then anyone could ever imagine. If you were small, effeminate or good looking then you were on their radar. Lewis had always been on their radar until such a time came when he was stronger and smarter.

He had spent as much time as he could outside. At school he was a pretty bad kid. Many people said it was cliché but in his school you got treated so much better being a bad student. He got one on one and attention. Thinking about it now, Lewis couldn't help but smile at how much of a brat he had been. Still back then he hadn't been nice. Beating up anyone who looked at him the wrong way, beating up the teachers if they shouted at him. To him any adult was not to be trusted. Before long it had been recommended that he not come back to school but go to special lessons. Pretty much they were expelling him but it never looked good for the school if they actually said that. The streets had soon beckoned him and before long he was stealing, fighting and on a one-way trip to prison.

Holding onto the barriers that protected people from falling down the sheer drop of the flood wall and the beach, he bent down, his eyes closing as he fought of a wave of nausea. He just didn't know what was wrong with him. Maybe he just had a bad case of the flu that had been going round. He was sure that little Jessica, the young girl who often worked with him had given it to him. This was all he needed. It was rare for him to get sick though. Plus everything ached. It was as if he had been running the marathon or something. Taking a deep breath, counting backwards from ten to one he slowly pulled back up ignoring the strange looks he was getting from the tourists around him.

Finally steadying himself, he pulled a hand through his black hair that was most definitely in need of a trim; he walked towards the bus stop groaning at his luck. The bus stop was heaving. Old ladies, young mothers and crying babies and large gangs of kids. It seemed that the bus journey would not be comfortable or quiet and with his spinning head it was the last thing he needed. He only had enough money for the bus; he couldn't even afford a taxi. Sometimes he really hated being poor. Sighing to himself he leaned against the low wall, waiting for the bus to come. Like everything it was late. Other buses came and went, the teenagers laughed raucously and of course the old dears started moaning about everything.

"Kids these days. There should be a law against young mothers it's clear they can't control their children. That's why there's probably so much trouble these days," one old dear was saying to the other. She had a weathered look to her skin, dark brown, deep-set wrinkles and no twinkle in the eyes. She was bitter, that much was clear to him.

A young girl waddled up to the bus stop. She couldn't have been much older then sixteen, her arms laden with shopping bags, he pregnant stomach protruding greatly. As the bus pulled up, everyone ignored her except to throw disgusted looks at her young pregnant stomach. She seemed to be struggling and dropped on of the bags. No one stopped to help her.

Sighing slightly to himself he motioned to the bus driver to wait and bent down to pick up the bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he gently grabbed her by the arm and helped her to the bus. Holding the other bag for her as she struggled to get her purse and pay for her ticket, he returned it to pay for his own. Nobody got up for her and he really did sigh once more. This was the way it was. The old dears would moan about rudeness and nobody having any manners and yet they never once got off their backsides to offer their seat to a pregnant girl. Leading the girl to the priority section he threw the bags into the compartment actually designed for pushchairs and smiled slightly.

"You alright now?" Looking down at her he noticed that she was younger then he had originally thought. The heavy make up covered up her youth and made her seem tacky. She was no older then fourteen he could tell.

"Thank you for your help," at least she was polite even though he thoughts he was slightly stupid to get pregnant at such a young age. Although he had not been a nice guy when he was younger, there were some things that even he would not do and one of those things was let a pregnant woman struggle. It might cause her to miscarry or have troubles during birth. He didn't want another orphan in the world.

"Shouldn't the dad be helping you with the shopping or something?" Lewis stated standing next to her ignoring the looks and stares they were receiving from the other people on the bus. He knew that they were probably thinking that he had gotten her pregnant, he was sure that they would probably ring the police stating that a 23-year-old man had gotten a child pregnant but they were wrong. Being rude was not something he liked to do anymore. That was when he had been a child. He had grown out of that phase plus it was entertaining to shock people.

"He doesn't want anything to do with me," she was honest, her eyes still wide with the hope that only a child could have. He would be sad to see that hope get buried and crushed as she grew older with the names, rumours and bitchiness that would go with her having a child young. It was just the way it was.

"Mm most kids don't want to be called daddy," he didn't condemn. He had also been through the same thing. A girl had gotten pregnant, he had denied it all. Stating that he had never seen her before. He never heard from the girl again. The only thing he knew was that the girl had an abortion and whilst he was guilty that she had to go through that, there had still been that sigh of relief when he found out the news.

Nodding sadly the girl thanked him for his help before pressing the button so the bus would stop. He watched as she got off. The area was pretty nice, not an area he would imagine a fourteen-year-old pregnant girl to be welcomed. Most of the times you couldn't really judge a book by its cover. Shrugging to himself he folded his arms across his chest, trying to steady his breathing and really trying to not throw up. When he got home he would get himself a nice cup of tea and sleep. He had nothing to do tomorrow, he had nowhere to go, nobody to see and as such there would be no need for him to wake up early.

Seeing that his stop was coming up, he pressed the button and walked nearer the front of the bus. Drivers were notorious for not stopping even if you did press the button. Maybe they were miserable, he really didn't know. When the bus came to a complete stop he jumped off, hitched his bag higher and started the ten-minute walk to his home. It was strange how the closer he got to the estate and his home, the houses and gardens became less tidy, the roads became emptier, the cars having spoilers and paint jobs that would fit in some form of joyriding movie. Shrugging to himself, he thought about the nice cup of tea he would get and maybe just maybe he would get rid of this flu. Whistling to himself he stuffed his hands once more back into his pocket and walked off.

Walking past the gangs that hung on the street corners, he waved in greeting at some of the girls hanging on the corners. It was early for them to be out but they didn't have much else to do. Walking past the tower blocks where screaming and shouting could be heard he sighed, it seemed that it wasn't going to be much quieter tonight then it was last night and the night before it. He passed the school, which was boarded shut, rubbing at his aching arms and stretching his neck, as the pain became a harsh buzz. His body felt as if it was an elastic band stretched to the limit. He really didn't like the feeling. Now he understood why people were constantly moaning about the flu.

Finally reaching his run down home, he opened the creaking gate that he would most probably have to grease the hinges and walked to the front door. Opening the door, he shut and locked the door behind him, bending to pick up the mail that was piled at the bottom of his door. It just seemed to be bills and he sighed. He really couldn't afford them. Maybe he should go back to stealing, maybe he should go back to sleeping with very rich women. There was quite a bit of money being a toyboy. Shaking his head and laughing in a self-deprecating way he threw his letters on the living room table and flopped down on the couch. He couldn't find the strength to even get up and go to make himself a cup of tea.

Lying across the length of the couch he used his toes to slip off each trainer, his hands going to the back of his head and he bent his knees. Did that take the bite off the buzz? No maybe if he turned on his side didn't girls say that worked with their cramps? No that didn't work either. His body felt as if it was burnt. Everywhere the sofa touched it hurt. He could remember the time he had burned his arm. The skin had become an angry red and blistered. For a couple of months he could hardly wear long sleeves on that arm because it hurt so much, now no matter which way he turned his body felt like it was on fire.

"I'm sure this isn't normal flu. Maybe I've been poisoned. I always knew that Jake hated me," he muttered laughing slightly deliriously. The pain had robbed him of all intelligent thoughts. Like why there was a large myriad of colours above him, why his fingers were tingling and why he was hearing a whoosh within his ears. His hair was ruffling as if there was a breeze but it was a sticky, hot day today with the only breeze being by the coast. None of this mattered.

Arching his back as a sharp pain shot down his body he just wanted to sleep but at the same time he was wide awake. His breathing became shorter, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage. He hated this. All of a sudden, his whole body tensed, the pain almost trilling on a high note and with a great outpouring of magic, though he thought it was like an invisible wind, it all stopped. His body flopped back on the couch, his limbs feeling like jelly and his head rolled to the side as he heard the cracks of what seemed to be a car backfiring or a gun.

"This is him?" A low growl of a voice. Other voices muttered, some saying a weird language that he was sure was pig Latin.

"The wards are up. No death eater can get into this house. How long it'll hold them I don't know," a woman's voice. It was kind of sultry but at that moment Lewis really didn't care.

"Not a moment too soon. They've just turned up." Cracking his eyes open just slightly he looked up at the man bending over him. Bright green eyes focused on his face as black hair was pushed out of them.

"It's him," the green eyed man said. His voice was deep and Lewis thought that it sounded like something from a storybook reading. Quite nice really. He must really be sick to be thinking these thoughts. Groaning slightly, he tried to move his limbs that felt like jelly.

"You better get out of my house before I force you," he muttered though it came out as a gargle. Everyone laughed and Lewis felt insulted. How dare they but then his body tingled.

"Sleep. You'll know what's happening soon enough," the green eyed man muttered before pointing a wooden stick at him. Was he really threatening him with a wooden stick? What was he going to do poke him in the eye? Strange words. He didn't understand but then it didn't matter. Lewis just became tired, his body heavy and he let the darkness take him.

He'd deal with it in the morning.


End file.
